They ate lunch up in the suite with the girls instead of going downstairs, just a quiet meal together. Rachel had been wound up much of the morning, chattering about horses and other animals and even insisting that Cuddy call Sandra at one point for another brief assurance that Belle was doing fine. Abby joined her sister with the stuffed menagerie for a while playing zoo, but she was mostly focused on her music game and also listening, just quietly absorbing like a sponge, Thomas thought. You could see her doing it. She knew things were happening around her, even if her father was "okay." This day had had entirely too much adrenaline load to this point, and all of the adults expected the girls to hit a wall soon.
Cuddy called House again after lunch, catching him just as he and Jensen had finished eating, he said. He didn't give details on the appointment with the psychiatrist, and she didn't ask. He still sounded tense, but she thought he also had a trace of his differential tone in his voice, obviously thinking hard about things. She didn't keep him long, just briefly touching base with him and letting the girls do the same.
She had just taken the phone back from Abby and ended the call when Thomas' cell rang. He pulled it out with a curious glance at the caller ID, then a quick surge of worry. "It's the stable," he announced as he answered. Cuddy saw the thought almost as plainly as if he had spoken it. Something else must be wrong; if he had a schedule for them to check in when he was out of town, this wasn't it. Thomas was nothing if not resilient, but for a quick second, she saw the unspoken plea in his eyes. No more.
"Hello, Bob," he said cautiously.
"Hi, Thomas. Am I calling at a bad time? You said that friend's funeral was Monday." The stable manager didn't sound like he was bearing terribly bad news, and Thomas adjusted mental scenarios appropriately, switching to minor inconveniences, not something like the mare having died.
"Yes, it was Monday. It's all right; I can talk for a few minutes. What's wrong?"
"Ember managed to step on a shoe and pull it in turnout this morning while she was bucking and playing around, and she cut another leg on a nail when it hit her as it flew off. She'll be fine; it's minor. Three stitches and a few days of rest. The vet just left. But I wanted to tell you now before you turn up out here at some godawful hour straight from the airport and find her bandaged. You're kind of unpredictable these days."
Thomas relaxed, and Cuddy, watching intently across the room, cautiously let the new worry stand down. "I'm just keeping you all on your toes. Making sure you're doing your job right." Thomas was joking, and Bob knew it. He had kept horses there for over thirty years and had known Bob from when Bob was a kid himself and his father was the one in charge at the barn. Bob and Tim had been good friends and often ridden together.
"Of course, there's the shoe. Farrier is coming Friday, and I'll put her down to get it reset. She wouldn't have been doing much till then anyway. Think we should redo all four?"
Thomas thought for a moment. "What has it been, about five weeks?"
"Right. Nice and inconvenient. She shouldn't have been due quite yet, but as long as we're replacing one. . ."
"Go ahead and have him look at her anyway and see what he thinks. I'd rather keep all four on the same schedule. And tell her I'll take the bills out of her carrot allowance." Bob chuckled. "How's she doing?" Thomas asked, his voice softening up.
"She's fine. Missing you, but Lewis has taken her out several times while you've been gone. They had a good long ride yesterday. I'll call him as soon as I finish with you to tell him she's on the DL for a few days."
"I should be home myself late tomorrow. I'll come out Friday just to groom even if Ember can't take a ride yet." Thomas smiled at Rachel, who was listening to the one-sided conversation with interest, trying to sort it out, knowing it was about the horse. An idea struck him. "Actually, Bob, I happen to have a young friend here who would love to talk to Ember for a minute if we can."
"Talk to . . .oh." The light dawned. "Your latest trick."
"Yes. She does it fine for Lewis. Can you try?"
"Sure. No guarantees, though." Footsteps on the barn aisles carried through the phone. "It's the right side, isn't it?"
"Yes, a few inches down from the crest." Thomas set the phone down. "Rachel, would you like to talk to Ember?"
Rachel's eyes widened. "Talk to Ember," she repeated, as if Christmas, Hanukkah, and her birthday had all made a joint reappearance.
Wilson had come to attention also. "Say what?"
"If she wants to, Rachel. Sometimes she doesn't feel like talking, but I'm sure she'd enjoy a conversation with a girl who liked horses. Come on. Abby, would you like to talk to Ember?" Thomas put the phone on speaker. "Come here, girls."
Abby looked dubious, but Rachel ran over, and to Thomas' surprise and then delight, she didn't stop this time standing at the side of the chair. She scrambled up with determination into his lap, reaching for the phone.
"Okay, I'm at her stall," Bob said, and the sound of the latch sliding back was heard. "Whoa, big girl. I've got somebody here who wants a word with you. I'm putting you on speaker, Thomas."
"Hello, Ember," Thomas said. "How are you doing, girl?" The responding whinny, startlingly loud at close range, reverberated through the phone and made Rachel's eyes widen even more. Abby slid down off the couch and walked over.
"That wasn't cued," Bob informed him. Thomas smiled. "Okay, here goes. Testing, one, two . . ." Ember whinnied again.
"Good girl." Thomas nudged Rachel, who was rapt. "Tell her hi, Rachel."
"Hi, Ember," she said. Ember whinnied back to her, and Rachel was off to the verbal races. "Ember, my horsey Ember says hi. I named it like you." The mare whinnied again. Abby scrambled up into Thomas' lap with a slight assist from him. She was studying the phone much like her father did lab results. Rachel, meanwhile, was prattling on about her stuffed menagerie and telling Ember she wished she could see her and that it was neat that she was a red horse, pausing every few words for a response.
"I'm losing her," Bob warned softly.
Thomas was impressed she'd made it that far. While he had taught Ember the trick himself, he never ran it in rapid-fire succession like this. Rachel, of course, had no idea of restraint or demands. To her, she was talking with the horse. "Ember needs to say bye now, girls. Say bye, Rachel. You want to say bye, Abby?" Rachel did, Abby didn't. Abby was still trying to work out the catch here. Thomas picked up the phone, putting it off speaker. "Good girl, Ember. I'll see you soon. Give her a carrot, Bob."
"This was what I like about you, Thomas; you're never quite routine. Your little friend sounds like a live wire. I'll see you Friday." Bob ended the call, and Thomas repocketed his cell phone.
"Wow." Rachel's eyes were shining like stars.
Abby reached toward the pocket that had swallowed the cell phone. "How?" she demanded.
"Ember was talking to us," Thomas told her. Her skeptical expression was priceless.
"Thomas," Cuddy called, and he looked up as she clicked the camera on her cell phone, perfectly capturing him in the recliner with both girls in his lap half turned away from their mother and facing him. She took another just for good measure. "I'll send you a copy. And thank you for that. That was sweet of you."
Wilson at the moment looked like an older version of Abby. "Your horse speaks on command? Wait until House hears about this, which I'm sure will be within the first minute after he sees Rachel."
"Oh, he already knows Ember talks," Thomas assured him. "She's talked to him." Cuddy laughed.
Rachel leaned back comfortably against Thomas. "You talk to Ember?" she asked.
"I talk to her a lot." That had the ring of much more truth than just a reply to a toddler, and Cuddy was seized by the image of Thomas out alone on trails, riding his horse, telling her what he couldn't tell anyone else. The mare obviously was bonded to him; that first whinny of greeting had had a slightly different note than the subsequent ones on command, even to ears which weren't educated on equines. She was glad he had one outlet and one set of sympathetic listening ears, but the thought also was bittersweet. No matter how good a friend the horse was to him, it still didn't replace human contact.
"How does she do it?" Wilson asked. The oncologist had followed Cuddy's thought; he was looking sympathetic himself.
"A tap in a specific spot on the side of her neck."
"And you taught her that?" Thomas nodded.
Abby slid down off the recliner and returned to the couch. Rachel finally got down herself, retrieving the stuffed horse and starting a conversation with it, punctuated by whinnies and snorts in reply. Thomas settled back and felt an odd feeling of contentment, followed immediately by wondering how Greg's day was going. He, of course, wasn't eligible to call and touch base with him today. At least Greg wasn't reading the letters. "Lisa," he asked softly, "did Greg sound all right?"
"He sounded like he was thinking," she replied.
"Good," Wilson said. "And remember, Jensen is with him."
It wasn't too long after that that Abby fell asleep. Marina nudged Cuddy and pointed to her, but the adults carefully said nothing in front of Rachel, who would have resented any suggestion that she do the same. Rachel was running down herself, though, and before much longer, she was curled up on the floor with the horse instead of talking to it. Marina quietly picked her up, and one hand clutched the mane. "Ember," Rachel mumbled in her sleep. Marina smiled and adjusted her grip to include the toy, and she gently carried her to the bedroom. Cuddy picked up Abby and followed.
Thomas gave a soft sigh, feeling the exhaustion settle over him again like a wave. He'd been fighting it in surges all day. "You could take a nap, too, you know," Wilson suggested. "It's a good opportunity for it."
Thomas looked toward the bedroom door. He was almost afraid to, afraid he'd wake up in some other reality alone again, reluctant to miss one grain of the sands disappearing through the hourglass of the present. "I hate to waste the time," he admitted.
Wilson straightened up, the doctor stepping to the front. "Taking care of yourself isn't a waste of time, and you can't have gotten much sleep last night. Physically, you need to recharge a little. The girls are asleep for a while, and you really do look beat."
Cuddy and Marina quietly exited the bedroom just in time to hear the last phrase. Cuddy immediately jumped on the bandwagon. "That's a great idea, Wilson. Please, Thomas, take a nap while they are." He still looked reluctant, with a twinge of Housian stubbornness added, and her expression softened. "You're afraid of the clock striking midnight or something and it all ending, aren't you?"
"We do all go home tomorrow afternoon," he pointed out. "This visit is just about over any way you slice it."
She walked over and put a hand on his shoulder, giving him a squeeze. "Thomas, you aren't running out of time with me. No matter what. I promise." He slowly reached up to put one hand over hers, returning the pressure with a gratitude too large for words. "Actually," she continued, "I think Greg will come around eventually. Maybe not right now; things are happening too fast for him this last week. But given some time, you are winning."
"Thank you, Lisa," he said. Trying to lighten up the moment in front of the other two, he grinned up at her. "Well, you're a pretty good prophet so far. You were right about meeting the girls." She looked confused. "When we talked on the phone on Christmas, you said that maybe next year, we could all be together, even if just for a visit. It's officially next year, has been for three days. So you were right." She laughed.
Marina walked over a little closer to the recliner. "You've lived in St. Louis for a long time," the nanny stated.
"Since the late 1970s," he agreed.
"How would you feel about relocating?" she asked. "Once he -" She obviously edited that statement halfway. "Eventually, if things work out. It's a long way from Princeton."
He sighed. "I'd already decided back on Christmas Day to move. I've been thinking about it since I got back from Europe, and I decided to give it one more year, and if Princeton wasn't . . . wasn't available, to go ahead and pick somewhere else. I love that house, but it's simply too big anymore."
Marina looked sympathetic. "How big is it?"
"Two full floors. Four big bedrooms and lots of other space. We had a very active and social young teen when we bought it, and my sister and Emily's family would visit often, too. We deliberately picked it for the extra room." He pulled his cell phone out again and sorted through the pictures. "I think I have one of it on here. There it is." He handed the phone over, and the other three huddled up to look at it.
The picture was obviously mimicking the classic American Gothic painting. Thomas and Emily stood out front, him with a pitchfork, both of them with dour expressions and both fighting hard to maintain them, but the laughter in the eyes was stronger than the hard-held faces. This hadn't been taken too many years ago, both clearly seniors already although looking vigorously healthy. Cuddy studied them for a long minute before shifting attention to the house in the background. "That is a neat picture," she said. "And that's way too big a house to live in alone."
Wilson, too, was looking at the couple more than the house. "How long were you married?" he asked.
"Forty-nine years," Thomas replied. Four months, seven days, and eight minutes.
The oncologist looked impressed. "She was beautiful."
"Yes, she was. Inside and out."
Cuddy handed him the phone back, and Marina switched into bustling caring mode. "For now," the nanny stated, "you need to take a nap while the girls are, like he said."
Thomas looked over at Cuddy and gave in. "All right, on one condition." She looked at him inquiringly. "That you take one yourself, Lisa."
"I wasn't the one running around all night," she protested.
"You look pretty tired for just an alleged peaceful night's sleep, and I know I woke you up."
"So did the girls," Marina put in.
"I did get sleep. I was just having weird dreams." Cuddy studied him, then yielded herself. If that was the only way to get him to cooperate, so be it. "All right, it's a deal, but I'll only lie down as long as the girls are."
"Agreed. And to enforce that, I'm not going back down to my room." He smiled at her caught expression. "Because we both know that you would try to pad it out for me for another hour or so after they were awake before you called."
Wilson grinned. "You're good at this," he noted. "It reminds me of somebody. Come on, Cuddy, the nap's a-wasting."
Cuddy turned for the bedroom. "No phone, no laptop," Thomas emphasized. "Just lying there with your eyes closed." She walked on without replying and closed the door.
Marina headed for the girls' bedroom. She would at least keep them quiet in there as long as she could after they woke up. "Pleasant dreams," she said as she went in.
Thomas looked at Wilson, who was standing there like the nap police, and then closed his eyes, settling back in the recliner. Wilson sat down on the couch, quietly on duty. "Check on her in a few minutes," Thomas requested without opening his eyes. "No cheating."
"I will," Wilson promised. He sat there watching. The old man really was exhausted; it didn't take him much time at all to fall asleep, leaving the oncologist alone with his thoughts. Forty-nine years. They had still been happy, too; the picture couldn't have been more clear on that point. Still enjoying each other thoroughly. Thornton had made it work.
Wilson had been thinking lately about proposing to Sandra, had almost even bought a ring for Christmas, but part of him wanted to wait, to look at this thoroughly, to make sure. He was sure of Sandra and of Daniel, his family, but he had to admit he did have a lousy track record. He wanted Mrs. Wilson IV to be the last in the line. He knew he was making progress, was working on things with Jensen, and that he was closer to Sandra than he ever had been, much closer than with any of the others. He had finally decided to skip Christmas, just letting it be Daniel's first Christmas without extra pre-ring anxiety attached, and to talk with Jensen about it once they got into the new year. He thought he was ready, but he wanted a backup opinion on that. Then everything had erupted right after Christmas with Blythe, and he hadn't had a chance in the crisis. This simply wasn't the time. Once they got back to Princeton, though, once life had settled down a little bit, he would bring it up in his next routine session.
He had never expected to be inspired himself by House's father. On top of supporting his friend on this trip, he admittedly had been curious to meet Thornton, to question him, but he had been unprepared to take anything away from the meetings himself other than new information. More and more, though, he hoped that Thornton did move to Princeton ultimately. Even aside from House now, Wilson wanted to get to know him, not to grill him, but just to know him. He seemed like a neat old guy. Forty-nine years. Wilson and Sandra would be pushing it to make that long, but they had a chance.
He sat quietly watching the other man sleep, and though he did as promised get up to check on Cuddy soon - she was out like a light, too - he returned promptly to the couch and to his thoughts of the future. Also of the past, but even more of the future.